


Some Kind of South Side

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: First Kiss, Gallavich Endgame, High School AU, Ian and Trevor go on a date but don't worry, Ian is an idiot, M/M, Mickey is in love with ian, Trevor and Caleb are dating in this fic, Yes Trevor and Caleb are in this fic but Caleb is a dick, best friends au, if you've seen some kind of wonderful you know how this ends, some kind of wonderful AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: **COMPLETE**The 'Some Kind of Wonderful' AU Shameless edition fic no one asked for.Ian and Mickey have been best friends practically their entire life. Both coming from bad households, they bonded in their trauma and craziness of their neighborhood. When Ian falls for the unattainable Trevor, Mickey tries to tell him its a bad idea. Trevor, has a douche of a boyfriend, Caleb, and Mickey knows what Ian will only get hurt. But when Trevor finally agrees to a date with Ian, Mickey tries to be the supportive best friend, all the while hiding the fact that he's in love with him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 30
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to do this fic for the Shameless Big Bang but I ended up going with another idea, but everyone seemed so excited about this AU idea so I decided to turn it into a chapter fic. 
> 
> Trevor and Caleb are in this fic. But this is def Gallavich endgame and this is an AU. I get if that is not everyone's cup of tea even though I hope you give this fic a shot.
> 
> As always comments are LOVE.

The thing about high school is that it’s predictable. Same classes, same faces, same lunches, same drama. Same old bullshit day in and day out. Nothing changes. It's so god damn tedious. 

But sometimes, when you least expect it, something amazing happens. Something you never saw coming. Something cosmic. Something that changes your life and everything you thought you knew about life and friendship and love. Something that can change everything you thought you wanted about your future. It changes how you think and how you look at the world. 

They say that you can pinpoint sometimes the exact moment when your life changes. 

And Ian Gallagher can pinpoint his to the second. 

Mickey is looking at him from down the street. It seems silly, the two of them standing there in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, just staring at each other. Ian is clutching the box; the gift meant for Trevor; white knuckling it like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. His heart is pounding so loud in his chest its echoing in his ears and he can barely catch his breath. All from just looking at him. Mickey. The boy who he had grown up with. The boy who used to sleep on his bedroom floor after climbing in through his second story window because his dad was on the war path again and The Gallagher house had always been his safe haven. The boy who beat up all the bullies in elementary school; before Ian hit his growth spurt and now at almost 18, towers over his best friend and everyone else. 

The boy who waited. The boy who watched Ian pine after another all this time and never once complained. Never once said anything. He was just there, like he had been almost Ian’s entire life, waiting. 

But he didn’t have to wait anymore. 

It’s like Ian had been colorblind his entire 17 years on this earth and now, for the first time, he’s seeing colors. He’s seeing Mickey. All of Mickey. Not just Mickey his best friend. Not just Mickey, the town thug. Not just Mickey with his rough exterior and sharp tongue. Mickey with his grainy voice and loud laugh. Now he sees Mickey; the boy with the bluest eyes Ian has ever seen. Mickey who thumbs his lower lip when he’s nervous; and Ian realizes, too late in his opinion; that Mickey does it most, around Ian himself. Mickey who would take a bullet for Ian not just in friendship but in something deeper. Something so deep Ian feels like a complete idiot he didn’t see it until now. He didn’t see it from Mickey and he didn’t see it in himself. 

But the colors are so bright now and he’s blinded on this dark North Side street but the faint lighting coming from the street lamps are causing shadows to dance on Mickey’s pale skin and all Ian wants to do trace the shadows with his fingertips. Ian wants and it’s a strange feeling to have for someone you never had that though about before but the wave of it coursing through his body feels like an electrical current and his skin is buzzing and his head is cloudy but his eyes are laser focused on the boy only about 6 feet from him. His best friend. His person. The one thing in this world he never doubted. 

Ian feels drunk of all sudden. Sweaty and unsteady on his feet. 

“Mickey,” He whispers into the silent air. Mickey just keeps watching him; eyebrow arched in that way that says so many different things and Ian usually can decipher what that is, but can’t in this moment. There is still so much left to learn about Mickey, and Ian can’t wait for that learning to begin. 

“Mickey,” Ian says louder and takes a step forward. Mickey doesn’t move, but rubs at the scar above his eye and bites at his bottom lip and Ian gets another wave of want and it's so weird that he’s never seen it before. How beautiful Mickey is. How perfect with every single one of his flaws. 

“What?” Mickey teases, with this glint of flirt in his eyes. Ian smiles and takes a few long strides with his even longer legs and is reaching out for Mickey before he even reaches him. He wraps his fingers around Mickey’s forearm and pulls him flush against his tall frame. Mickey comes willingly, his arm instinctively wrapping around Ian’s waist. He looks up at him; eyes soft and searching Ian’s face for answers to questions he hasn’t asked yet. But Ian can see them dancing in his eyes and on the expression on his face. 

_‘Do you see me now?’_

_‘Are you going to keep me waiting?’_

_‘Are you mine now?’_

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ian whispers. Mickey just chuckles softly and shrugs, his eyes darting around everywhere but Ian’s. He takes his finger and pulls Mickey’s face back to his, just under his chin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Yeah, well you’re stupid. I always knew you were stupid.” 

It’s Ian’s turn to laugh and his lips are still parted with lingering huffs of laughter when suddenly he feels Mickey’s cold, but so incredibly soft mouth, on his. 

This is the moment. 

The moment Ian’s whole life changes. 

**2 Months Earlier:**

He’s late. As usual. 

Ian trips down the last two stairs on the back staircase that leads to the Gallagher kitchen and it’s the usual early morning chaos as everyone dances around each other. There are lunches being made and breakfast’s being eaten and yelling and as he fishes a clean t-shirt out of the dryer in the corner of the kitchen, he has to step over his passed-out father. He gives his older sister a look and she just shrugs and rolls her eyes as she hands him his lunch in a brown paper bag. He smiles at her, bumping into his younger sister Debbie on the way around the kitchen table, making sure to give his youngest brother, Liam, a small head rub on the way out the back door. 

It’s just like every other morning in the Gallagher house. And as if by clockwork as he lands on the bottom of the stairs, he sees his best friend walking across the back yard. 

“Ey.” Mickeys got a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and he’s fingerless gloved hands are cracking open a beer as he waits for Ian to stride up beside him. 

“Little early, no?” 

Mickey just rolls his eyes and takes a long gulp from his can, letting out a loud belch before speaking. He hands his cigarette to Ian, which he takes happily. 

“You can't expect me to make it through a day in that fucking place without some liquid encouragement.” 

“Where are your books?” 

Mickey gives him one of his famous _‘the fuck are you even talking about’_ looks and Ian chuckles to himself as he hands the half-smoked cigarette back to his best friend as they start their walk up the South Side streets. 

“Frank was passed out on the kitchen floor again.” Ian huffs out as they pass a homeless guy in front of the Kash N Grab. 

“Yeah, well, Terry actually made it to the couch last night. So, for once, he’s one step ahead of Frank.” Mickey chucks his empty beer can into the street and Ian groans low. 

“There’s a fucking trash can right there, Mick.” 

“Would you cut it out with that shit? The fucks up with you this morning, huh? _‘It’s too early to drink. Make sure you recycle.’_ You going straight on me, Gallagher?” 

Ian laughs, bumping his best friend's shoulder. “Me, straight?” 

Mickey smirks and thumbs his bottom lip. “Right, Mr. Gay Avenger over here.” 

“You’re gay too, Mick.” Ian reminds him. 

“Yeah, but I don’t flaunt it like some other fag I know.” 

“We got nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“What fucking world do you live in, huh? This is still South Side. And my dad...” Mickey trails off and doesn’t even look before crossing the street in the middle of the fucking road and cars blare on their horns as Mickey flips them off. Ian jogs to catch up with him, once it's safe to cross. 

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Ian says as he falls back in step with him. 

“It’s fine. You’re queer enough for the both of us.” 

Ian stays quiet for a few minutes as they walk; Mickey chain smoking and ever so often kicking something or knocking a trash can over just to cause destruction. Ian knows it somehow makes Mickey feel better. His life isn't the easiest. Ian knows that. So, Ian tries not to give Mickey too much shit when he does this. And he does it a lot. 

Ian’s known Mickey since they were 8. Ian was playing second base on their little league team when Mickey was kicked out for pissing on first base. Ian remembers going up to him after the game; Mickey waiting in the parking lot for someone...anyone...to pick him up. Ian knew Fiona would be late getting there to walk him home, so it was just the two of them for a while. Mickey had dirt on his face and his clothes were ripped and worn and Ian remembers instantly feeling sorry for him. Yeah, he had a pretty fucked up home life; Ian knew even at 8; but Mickey... 

He remembers them not saying a word to each other the entire time they waited but once Fiona got there, he asked Mickey if he wanted to walk with them. Mickey looked confused, angry, and relieved all in one. Ian knew no one would be coming for Mickey. And he remembers wanting, more than anything, to just be there for Mickey. 

And he had ever since. 

Mickey spent more time at the Gallagher house more than his own. They built forts out of blankets and read comic books until 3AM in the living room after everyone else was asleep. And as they got older, Mickey would sometimes come in the middle of the night; a new fresh bruise forming around his eye; and Ian would hand Mickey a pillow and a blanket so he could curl up next to his bed. They shot guns together that Mickey had gotten from his dad. Ian had his first beer with Mickey long after Mickey first had his. They smoked their first joint with Ian’s older brother Lip. They would hang out at the baseball fields, where it all started, deep into the night drinking and smoking until the sun came up. 

Ian has a lot of brothers and sisters. His house was never quiet. But as time went on and years past, Mickey just became another person in their house and everyone just accepted that fact. No one judged Mickey or where he came from; everyone in the neighborhood knew who Terry Milkovich was and the kind of man he was. They knew all of Mickey’s older brothers were following right behind in Terry’s footsteps paved with drug deals and gun runs. Mandy, the youngest Milkovich, was loud and scary, just like her brother, but had sweetness about her that not too many people saw. But Ian saw it. She didn’t hang out with them often; she had her own group of delinquent girlfriends at school; but she was nice to Ian because Ian was nice to her brother. 

Lip, Ian’s older brother, would sometimes give Ian shit about his friendship with Mickey; worrying that Mickey’s reputation and lack of drive would somehow deter Ian from his dreams of getting good grades and going to college, but Ian was smarter than that and Lip knew it. Lip had already fucked up his chances at making something of himself; following close behind Frank in his alcoholic shoes, and Ian gets where the concern comes from. Lip got Frank’s genes and Ian got Monica’s; their mothers. 

Ian was diagnosed Bi-Polar last year after jumping off the roof and into the pool and then taking his brother, Liam, over state lines in a stolen car. And for all the times Ian had been there for Mickey growing up when his home life was less than stellar, Mickey made up for it when Ian was diagnosed. Sitting by his bed as he was strapped to it in the psych ward. Visiting every day of his 30-day staycation. Making sure he knew each medication Ian had to take and why and when once Ian got home. Making sure he took a shower and ate when all Ian wanted to do was curl up in bed and die. It was a hard few month last year, and Mickey never once left his side or complained. 

But the biggest thing, once it was all over and Ian was stable and better and back to school, was that Mickey never treated him differently or brought any of it up again. Once in a while, Mickey will ask if Ian took his meds, but coming from Mickey it didn’t bother him. Mickey didn’t walk on eggshells around him like the rest of his family does. Because that’s what Mickey was. Family. His best friend. 

So, Ian tries not to give Mickey much shit when he does the shit he does; but sometimes it bothers Ian because he knows Mickey is so much better, so much more than Mickey thinks he is. Ian knows the only reason he’s even still in school is because of him, and he’s just barely passing so he can graduate. Mickey has no plans to go to college or any dreams of the future. Not like Ian. Mickey teases him sometimes about his ambitions but Ian knows it's just best friend banter. Because the truth is, when Ian is ripping his hair out trying to figure out Geometry theorems, Mickey is right there telling him what he’s not understanding and teaching it to him in a way he understands, even though Mickey is barely passing his basic math class. 

Mickey is smart. Probably smarter than Ian. 

He just doesn’t care. He thinks, just because he’s South Side and because of who is family is, that he’s fucked for life. He will never understand it doesn’t need to be that way. That he can get out too. Ian tried to tell him that one day a few months back; actually, pleaded with him; but Ian went home with a fat lip so he never brought it up again. 

Ian loves Mickey. And there was a moment, last year, when Ian thought maybe it was something than just best friend love. They had been drinking down at the baseball fields on a really hot July night and Mickey was doing chin ups on the beams and Ian was watching with hooded eyes. Ian isn't blind. Mickey is attractive. With jet black hair and the kind of blue eyes you only see in models and paintings. His knuckle tattoos promise threats, that have been delivered, but Ian can look past that and just see the bad boy appeal to them. Mickey was funny. Not typical haha funny but that dry sarcastic funny that always gets Ian laughing so hard his stomach hurts the next day. Mickey is kind, but only to the small circle of people he actually gives a shit about. The rest is succumbed to the Milkovich sneer, the occasional black eye and they know to steer clear of him. 

Ian is one of the people that Mickey gives a shit about. Probably the most. And there are times when he catches Mickey looking at him. And Ian always wonders if that look means something. But he’s never asked. They are affectionate in their way. Ian kissing Mickey on the cheek sometimes just to piss him off and Mickey has hugged him from time to time. That Thanksgiving when Ian’s mom cut her wrists in the kitchen. When DYFS took them away from Fiona because their father was a total piece of shit. And every day that Ian was in the hospital. Ian would cling to Mickey like a lifeline; unable to let go for what seemed like the entire visiting time; because Ian just needed to feel something, anything, other than the pain in his chest. 

So there Mickey was; doing his chin ups, his thick thighs wide as he brings himself up and down with his strong arms and his shirt is riding up showing off the pale smooth skin of his stomach and he’s making these soft grunting noises and Ian thinks. What would Mickey do if he kissed him? He knows Mickey is gay. It's not something they talk about in great detail. It’s not like Ian who goes on and on about his sexual conquests which really only makes up two guys. The saddest thing about Ian, is that he’s never even kissed a guy. Ian knows Mickey has gone to Boy’s town to have sex. But he doesn’t talk about it and Ian doesn’t ask. Because the truth is, if Terry Milkovich ever found out Mickey was gay, he’d put a bullet through his son’s head. And that is a fact. So no, he and Ian don’t talk about it. Ever. But Ian knows. 

So, Ian wonders. What it would be like to kiss Mickey. Touch him. It's not like he’s never thought about it. Maybe not as much now that he was older, but definitely when he hit puberty and realized he liked the look of boys was more than girls. And Ian tried to think about the boys in his class and his mind always fell to Mickey. It was way before Mickey started showering regularly and always seemed to show up to the Gallagher house with dirt on his face and 4-day old clothes. Fiona would always make him shower and then wash his clothes for him. She understood what it was like in the South Side and not everyone was as lucky to have the kind of family the Gallagher's did. But Ian thought about Mickey the first time he jerked off. And every once in a while, his face creeps into Ian’s fantasies, but that’s all it is. A fantasy. Because Mickey has never given one inkling of a clue that he was ever into Ian. 

But that night Ian wondered. He may have crowded himself closer to Mickey than normal. And stared into his eyes a little longer than he should have. But Mickey never flinched. Never pushed forward or got that look in his eye. So, Ian let it go. He never thought about it again. He loved Mickey and Mickey loved him and they were best friends. It's all it is. All it would ever be. And Ian is fine with that. Because the thing is, Ian has a crush. Not just a crush, a yearning. One that he hasn’t even told Mickey about yet. 

His name is Trevor. Trevor Barclay. And he’s beautiful. He’s not usually the type of guy that Ian goes for, mostly because Trevor used to be a girl. He started transitioning at 14 and now at almost 18, Trevor is the essentially a guy. And Ian is here for it. He’s shorter than Ian with a mop of brown curls on his head, deep puppy dog brown eyes and scruff on his face that makes Ian yearn. And he’s so nice. He runs the LGBTQ group at school. And volunteers at a homeless shelter. He’s smart and sweet and hot and Ian wants him. He wants him to be his boyfriend. But there’s a slight problem with all that. 

Trevor has a boyfriend. Caleb. And that guy is a fucking asshole. The most popular guy in school. Football player. Captain of the track team. Student council. And the first guy to come out as gay in school Freshman year. Ian came out Sophomore year, but by then coming out was old news and no one gave a shit anymore. And when Trevor got here from New Jersey last year during Junior year, and was openly trans, Caleb jumped on that like flies on shit. And Trevor fell for it, hook line and sinker. Ian fucking hates that guy. Mickey makes fun of him for it sometimes, wondering what the problem is when technically Caleb has never really done anything to Ian. What Mickey doesn’t know is that Caleb has something Ian wants. And Trevor can do better. 

But Ian has never told Mickey. He isn't sure how Mickey even feels about Trevor. Yeah, Mickey is gay, but he’s not culturally versed in all things queer and Mickey might know what trans means, and he might not even give a shit about any of it, but Ian isn't sure how Mickey would take him liking someone like that. He knows for a fact Mickey hates Caleb. Caleb really doesn’t give Ian a second look, but he and Mickey definitely do not get along. Mickey is always threatening Caleb and Caleb makes sure to tell Mickey what a piece of South Side trash he is every chance he gets. Usually, Ian has to literally physically keep Mickey from beating the shit out of him, but it's just what Mickey does. He antagonizes. It’s a hobby for him. 

Ian has no clue how Mickey will take Ian’s new crush. And he’s not sure he’s ready to find out. 

Mickey throws his half-smoked cigarette into the parking lot as he and Ian trudge up the stairs into the front door of the school. 

“Sup Milkovich? Gallagher.” Jimmy...or Steve...Ian just calls him Jimmy Steve in his head because he actually isn't sure what this guy's name is; says to them as he holds his leg out blocking their way as he sits on the ledge of the railing of the stairs. Jimmy Steve is probably in his early 20’s... retaking his Senior year for the 4th time. Ian wonders is he’s doing it on purpose. Not wanting to start living in the real world and still being able to go to all the good parties. He doesn’t really hang in any type of group; he sells drugs to anyone who wants them and always supplies all the alcohol at the parties because well...he’s like 22, but for some reason he seems to have a real hard on for him and Mickey. He doesn’t necessarily bully them, because no one fucking bullies Mickey and if anyone even looked at Ian the wrong way Mickey would knee them in the balls, but he has some weird thing with them. 

“How’s your sister, Gallagher?” Jimmy Steve says around opening of his water bottle. And there it is. Ian knew it was something. Fiona. His oldest sister. 

“In your dreams, Jimmy Steve.” Ian pushes his legs out of their way and pushes open the double doors to the school. Mickey pushes his way through the crowd, literally as Ian maneuvers cautiously, making sure he doesn’t bump anyone. Mickey doesn’t care. Ian does. It's just how they work. How they’ve always worked. Best friends since childhood, oil and water, but somehow perfectly in tune. 

“See ya at lunch?” Ian calls to him. Mickey just nods, ducking into one of the side hallways on his way to Math, as Ian goes straight to honors Spanish. He’s almost at his classroom when he sees him. Trevor. He’s leaning against a row of lockers, head back, ear pods in and eyes closed as he listens to something. Probably some indie band Ian knows nothing about, because he and Mickey only listen to death metal and 70’s classic rock. And God he’s beautiful. 

Trevor’s eyes open and he looks directly at Ian. And then he smiles. It's small; just a slight upturn of his lips; but it's there. And their eyes lock for only a mere 20 seconds but Ian feels it all through his body. But their bubble is soon popped, as Caleb comes up beside Trevor to smack a wet kiss on his cheek and then Caleb’s eyes catch Ian’s, watching Trevor, and his soft look turns suddenly to a glare. 

“You like staring at my man, Gallagher?” 

Ian just shakes his head, gives Trevor a small wave, and disappears into his classroom. 

Fucking dick. Fuck he hates that guy. 

*** 

Ian takes a few gulps from the water fountain and leans back up, wiping water off his chin when he feels someone next to him. 

“Hi.” 

Ian jumps and coughs, choking on his last swallow of water. 

Trevor. 

“Uh, hi.” Ian coughs out. 

“Sorry. Just...um...wanted to apologize about Caleb. From before. He can be a little...” 

“Possessive? Rude. Shitty?” 

Trevor huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. All of the above.” 

“I don’t get it. He’s...such an asshole.” 

“He can be. But there's more to him than that. You don’t know him.” 

“Yeah, and I don’t want to.” 

“Yeah, well yours isn't a picnic either.” 

Ian scoffs. “Mine? You mean Mickey?” He laughs loudly. “Uh, no. Mickey isn't my boyfriend. Best friends. We're uh, best friends. Have been since we were like 8. That’s all it is.” 

“Mmm.” Trevor’s eyes slide up and down Ian’s tall frame. “That why you were looking at me? Was Caleb, right?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“It might.” 

“Don't seem like a cheater to me.” 

Trevor smiles. “I’m not. But I’ll never say no to a hot guy checking me out.” He winks at Ian before turning and heading down the hallway away from him. 

Ian has to adjust himself in his jeans, glancing around, hoping no one notices. 

*** 

Mickey is deep under a hood of car when Ian decides it’s the time to tell him. 

“I like someone.” He blurts out. Mickey stills underneath the hood and slowly pulls himself out. 

“You do, do you?” 

Ian nods. Mickey wipes his hand on his jeans. “Okay. Why you all squirrely. Who is it?” 

“Do you know Trevor Barclay?” 

“The trans kid?” 

Ian nods. And Mickey just laughs. 

“Leave it to you to be politically correct.” 

“So?” 

“So what? What do you want me to say? If you wanted to get fucked by a fake dick, I got like 4 dildos at home you can use.” Mickey snickers to himself before leaning back in under the hood of the car. He works part time at a garage just to get out of his house, and he’s good at it. Most of the time Ian sits here on his shifts to keep him company and they smoke and shoot the shit. It's comfortable. Routine. It’s them. 

“It’s not about that. I like him.” 

“Yeah, and what does big bad black boyfriend think about that?” 

“He doesn’t like it.” 

“Mmm.” There’s some clanking from under the hood and Ian sighs heavily. 

“You think it’s a lost cause?” 

“I think Caleb would pound you into the ground. And not in a good way.” 

“But I have you to protect me.” Ian smiles. He earns himself a middle finger from under the hood. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.” 

“I am.” 

“Then tell me what to do.” 

Mickey sighs heavily and emerges from under the hood again. This time he has grease smeared on his cheek. “I think Trevor is a North Side reject who is slumming it on the South Side. I think he’s pretentious and you may think he’s this shiny pretty thing, but he’s not. He’s not good enough for you.” 

“You don’t know him.” 

“And you do? Come on, Ian. What do you think is going to happen when he finds out about the bi-polar, huh?” 

“That’s not fair, Mick.” 

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s not fair. But it's life. It's your life. And I’m telling you, someone like him? Someone like fucking Trevor and that fucking asshole Caleb? They aren't going to understand. Trevor is going to run in the other direction and Caleb is going to use it against you to make your life a living hell.” 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Ian hops down from the hood of a station wagon and heads toward the roll up doors of the shop. 

“I’m being honest. You asked for my opinion. I gave it to you. I’m not going to fucking sugar coat things to make you feel better. That’s not who I am. It’s not what I do. It’s not who we are to each other.” 

“Well, just once I wish you would have lied. Just once, Mick.” 

*** 

It’s the first night in almost 10 years that Mickey doesn't come to Ian’s house. If anything, Mickey knows when Ian needs space. He doesn’t always do it, but he knows it. He didn’t have to be so mean. He didn’t have to be so honest, as he likes to put it. But he was. And Ian knows he’s right. He knows most people; most men he’s going to date, now or 10 years from now, aren't going to be able to handle his disorder. He can barely handle it. His family can barely handle it. The only one who has seemed to be been able to handle it, is Mickey. So, he would know. Ian knows he’s right. 

But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want to try. Fuck the hurt. Fuck the pain of losing someone once they find out. The pain of them walking away because they can't handle it. Ian can't live his life that way. He needs to take chances. He can't be afraid. 

Which leads him to the decision of walking right up to Trevor at his locker the next day, hands shaking. 

“I think we should go out on a date.” 

Trevor’s eyes widen and he closes his locker gently. “You know I have a boyfriend, right?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t care. He sucks, and I don’t. It’s one date. One night of me and my charm and humor and if you decide he’s better than me, I’ll walk away no questions asked.” 

Trevor leans against his locker and folds his arms. “You drive a hard bargain.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

Trevor just looks at him, as if he’s really honestly thinking. “Okay. Saturday night. This better be one hell of a date, Ian.” He pushes himself off the lockers and gives him one last grin before ducking into a classroom. 

Ian turns, huge smile plastered across his face, to find Mickey standing across the hall from him, expression unreadable. Ian’s smile slowly fades as he looks at his best friend. He opens his mouth to say something but Mickey beats him to it. 

“You’re making a mistake.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian experience something new in their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. Thanks so much for all the love for this fic. I am having so much fun writing this. I usually write a lot of angst and it has been so much fun writing so much fluffiness. 
> 
> This is a milestone chapter in Mickey and Ian's friendship. It changes a lot, without either of them realizing it. 
> 
> Enjoy! And as always COMMENTS ARE LOVE.

It takes 2 days for Ian to talk to Mickey again. 

They don’t walk to school together. 

They don’t eat lunch together. 

The thing is, Ian keeps his life the same. He walks the same way to school, at the same time. He eats lunch at the same table. But Mickey is nowhere to be found. 

And the thing is, the thing that Ian has always heard his entire life but never actually experienced it, is that you don’t know how much you’ll miss something or someone until they aren't there anymore. 

And Ian misses Mickey. 

Ian knows he’s stubborn. He went almost a month without talking to his brother Lip. He can be as passive aggressive as they come. He can be petty. And sometimes downright spiteful. But Mickey? He blows Ian out of the water in all those things. Because Ian knows what he has to lose by being a little shit. But Mickey? Mickey has never thought he was worth anything, no matter how many times Ian has tried to tell him. Mickey thinks if he wasn’t in the world, in anyone’s life, it wouldn’t matter. The world would keep spinning. Lives would still be led. He wasn’t important enough to anyone that it would matter if he was gone. 

But it’s been 2 days and Ian feels like there is a giant-sized Mickey Milkovich hole in his life. He won't answer his texts. He won't answer his calls. And Ian fucking misses him. 

Ian knows Mickey won’t cave, so he knows he has to. 

He finds Mickey in the shop, on his day off. The only lights in the place are the hanging light from the hood, hooking into one of the grooves, shining a light into the engine as Mickey tinkers with whatever the fuck is in there. Ian knows nothing about cars. But Mickey? It’s his passion. It calms him to take an engine apart or a flux capacitor or whatever the fuck is under hoods, and put them back together. He once told Ian it's like surgery. The car is sick and it’s Mickey’s job to find out why it’s sick. Sometimes you can save them. Sometimes you can't. Ian thinks about that a lot. He doesn’t know why. 

It’s after 8pm, but somehow Ian knew he’d be here. 

“Mick?” 

Mickey stills under the hood at the sound of Ian’s voice. But he doesn’t answer him. Stubborn. 

“Mickey.” Ian says his name sternly. Mickey just keeps tinkering. Ian picks up a wrench on a nearby table and throws it across the room. It hits a concrete wall, clattering and echoing in the small space. 

“Jesus Christ, Ian!” Mickey jerks himself from under the hood and glares at him with fire in his eyes. 

“Oh! He speaks!” 

“Son of a bitch.” Mickey throws his own tool onto his tool box and rubs his hands down his face in frustration. “What?” 

“What? You don’t talk to me for 2 days and you get to ask what?” 

“Figured you didn’t need me anymore. You got your new boyfriend.” 

Ian just shakes his head and huffs out a laugh. “First of all, he is not my boyfriend. It is one freaking date. If that’s what you’re pissed about-” 

“I’m not pissed.” Mickey spits out. 

“Really? Cause you seem pissed.” 

Mickey just grunts and finds a rag to wipe his hands on. “Just think you’re an idiot is all.” 

Ian rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, is that all?” 

Mickey just gives him a pointed look and mirrored eye roll. “You’re gonna get your delicate little heart broken and then I’m going to have to hear about well into our 30’s.” 

That makes Ian laugh, and he steps closer to him. Mickey is staring at him, rag in hand, grease on his cheek. He looks...confused. Almost sad. He raises an eyebrow at Ian. 

“Come on, Mick.” 

“Man, why can't you see what a huge mistake this is? Trevor...and Caleb...Caleb is going to fucking kill you. And then I’m going to have to kill him and then I’m gonna be in jail for the rest of my life and there is no quality ass in there. How could you do this to me?” 

“Oh, right. Because everything in my life should just center around what’s best for you.” 

“Now, you’re getting it.” 

“What are you so worried about? That Trevor and I might actually work and then we will go get married and leave you all alone?” 

“Don't fucking flatter yourself.” Mickey pauses. “Trevor would never fucking marry you. Who would be the bride?” 

“Fuck off.” Ian laughs, stepping into Mickey’s space and pushing him. 

“Have you even ever kissed a guy? Trevor’s dating fucking Caleb man. They literally fuck each other in the halls. He’s not gonna want some inexperienced ginger trying to suck his life force out.” 

“Oh, and you have all this experience with kissing? I’m fucking sure.” 

Mickey smirks. “Probably more than you.” 

“You’re a fucking liar.” 

Mickey just shrugs and takes the light off the hood and slams it shut. 

“Seriously?” 

Mickey shrugs again. 

“There is no way you’ve kissed anyone.” 

“Kissed girls.” 

Ian wrinkles his nose and makes a gagging noise. “Gross.” 

Mickey keeps shrugging. “Gotta do what you gotta do. Appearances and shit. Can't really fuck a girl without kissing her. They like that shit. Ask Trevor.” 

Ian glares. “First of all, I don’t need to hear about you balls deep in some girl. And second, don’t fucking talk about Trevor like that. He’s almost fully transitioned.” 

“Still has a cooter between those legs.” 

“I knew you wouldn’t get it. Fuck you.” Ian turns to leave but he feels Mickey’s hand on his elbow. 

“No, you’re right. I don’t fucking get it. You’re gay. You like dick. And Trevor doesn’t have one.” 

Ian sighs heavily. “I like him. I don’t know why. But I do. His smile and he’s smart and...” 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Mickey drops his hand. “I get it. No need to wax poetic and shit.” 

It’s silent for a while, Mickey going back to fiddling around with his tools, cleaning up for the night. Ian just stands there awkwardly, not sure where they are in this conversation now, or their friendship. Mickey doesn’t get it. He isn't used to shit like this. Ian actually liking someone. Not just some quick fuck under the bleachers to get his rocks off. And Mickey isn't used to other types of queers. You are either like or boys or girls or both. You either have a dick or a vagina and you use those to fuck. Mickey isn't totally clueless to other types of people and sexuality, but it doesn’t mean he actually gets it. He knows deep down Mickey isn't trying to be rude or mean, only because Ian knows him so well. 

“And to answer your question, no I’ve never kissed a guy.” 

Mickey chuckles low in his throat. “No shit.” 

“You really think I’d be bad at it.” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

“Because you’re my best friend and you know everything about me.” 

“Not that kinda shit.” 

Ian pauses, thinking carefully about the next thing he wants to say. “You good at it?” 

“The fuck would I know?” 

“Well did those girls seem to enjoy it?” 

Mickey scoffs, turning and raising that signature eyebrow at him. “I mean my cock is the 8th wonder of the world.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“You’ve seen it.” 

“When we were like 13.” 

“Only gotten bigger.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

They both laugh and Mickey steps closer to his best friend. “You afraid Trevor won't like how you kiss?” 

“I don’t know. What if I suck at it?” 

“Well, you won't be sucking anything else.” 

“Okay, we’re done here.” 

“No, wait.” Mickey grabs at his bicep and steps in front of him. He looks...nervous. He keeps thumbing at his bottom lip, the signature nervous Mickey Milkovich tick. “I’ll help you.” 

Ian narrows his eyes. “Help me?” 

“Yeah, you know.” Mickey makes a flailing motion with his hand. “The kissing shit.” 

Ian processes what Mickey is saying, slowly. Then his eyes widen. “You’re gonna teach me how to kiss?” 

Mickey shrugs. 

“Don't you think that’d be weird?” 

“You tell me.” 

“Yeah, Mick. I think it’d be weird.” 

“Okay.” With that Mickey turns to head toward the roll up door of the shop. “Suit yourself.” 

Mickey fiddles with the padlocks and raises his arms to roll the door down and Ian suddenly panics. What if this is his only chance to learn? He doesn’t want to just grab some rando and kiss him. Kissing is special. Intimate. And yeah, Mickey is his best friend and it's not like Ian hasn’t thought about kissing Mickey before. But that was a long time ago when he wasn’t sure of his feelings; that weird balance between attraction and friendship. A line that has been blurred for Ian his entire life. A line it took Ian a long time to finally make solid and trust in his decisions that Mickey is his best friend. But Mickey’s lips are plump and pink and he’s constantly chewing on them, making them red and swollen at times and Ian is only human. And a gay human at that. Mickey is attractive. Hot even. But this could be simple. Just two friends helping each other out. And he knows for Mickey, that’s all it is. But Ian isn't sure he’d be able to keep that line unblurred if he ever had his mouth on his. 

But Mickey is walking away and a thousand things run through Ian’s head as he watches Mickey almost leave and the bottom line is two very distinct things; one is he wants to kiss Mickey because he needs to get the whole first kiss over with and he trusts Mickey and doesn’t want it to be with some stranger and he doesn’t want it to be with Trevor because if he’s bad, he can never come back from that. And two, this may be his only chance to ever have his mouth on Mickey without being punched in the face. And Ian is curious. Curious what those girls got. Curious to know if Mickey uses his tongue. If his lips are as soft as Ian thinks they are. It’s selfish to want this. He doesn’t know if this is the right thing. He doesn’t know if this will change things with Mickey. If their friendship would be affected. But it's just a kiss, right? People do it all the time. 

Ian has seen Lip kiss a thousand girls. Fiona; a shit ton of guys. It’s natural. Like breathing. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. And Micky doesn’t seem to think it's such a big deal, so why should Ian? 

“Wait.” 

Mickey’s hand stills on the overhead door and sighs. “What?” 

“Will you...” 

Mickey looks over his shoulder at him, but doesn’t take his hand off the door. 

“You know?” 

Mickey turns and folds his arms over his chest. “No, I don’t know.” 

“You are such an asshole sometimes, you know that?” 

Mickey laughs and flicks the lights on in the shop and Ian squints at the onslaught of brightness that invades his eyes. He rolls the door down, for privacy Ian is sure and he feels his heart begin to beat faster in his chest. Mickey saunters to him; his signature Milkovich swagger that girls and guys swoon over but Mickey never seems to notice; and Ian feels butterflies form in his stomach that he just chalks up to nerves. 

Mickey hops up on one of the work benches, spreading his thighs; thick thighs Ian has always noticed, maybe too much; and Ian feels his cock twitch in his jeans. It’s natural. He knows he’s about to kiss someone; someone he does find attractive; so, he doesn’t give much thought to it. Mickey is just smirking at him, cocky and full of confidence and Ian doesn’t think he’s ever seen so sure of himself. He almost looks...happy. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren't you?” Ian murmurs, stepping closer to Mickey. His hands are sweating. Fuck. 

“Am I enjoying how fucking nervous you are? Damn straight.” He gives his best friend a small smile. “Relax, Gallagher. It’s me. Remember when we were 13 and jerked each other off?” 

A warmth floods Ian’s body at the memory. He does remember that. A lot. He sometimes feels dirty thinking about 13-year-old Mickey; whose dick was probably a lot smaller than it is now; who still used to have dirty fingernails and didn’t shower every day. But he remembers the small moans that escaped his mouth that day. The way Mickey’s breathing was ragged and his eyes kept widening when Ian’s hand felt extra good on a tug upwards and the way Mickey couldn’t quite get his small hand around Ian’s oversized dick, even at 13. Ian remembers that day a lot. Even though he shouldn’t. 

“That was different. We were kids.” 

“Mmm.” Mickey hums and tugs Ian closer to him by his wrist. “Relax. Just close your eyes and imagine it’s your little crush. Want me to cross my legs for you to get the full affect?” 

“Fuck off-” Ian can barely get the words past his lips because Mickey’s mouth is on his and it’s wet and hot and his lips are already parted and Ian stops breathing. Mickey moves his mouth over Ian’s and Ian can’t seem to move at all. Mickey’s eyes are closed and Ian can’t seem to be able to close his. He’s just watching Mickey as he tilts his head, trying to map out Ian’s lips and he seems so calm. And Ian can’t get out of his own head. 

Mickey pulls back and frowns. “Jesus Christ, you’re fucking horrible at this.” 

Ian can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He was just kissing Mickey. Like with his lips. He could feel Mickey’s tongue trying to snake its way into his mouth. Ian is stuck. Frozen. And his cock is rock hard. 

“Gallagher. Would you fucking relax? The fuck is the problem?” 

“You don’t feel weird? Kissing me?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

Mickey shrugs. “Cause it's you.” 

And suddenly, that small little statement that holds such huge weight, makes Ian relax. His shoulders slump and his mouth goes slack and before he can think of another reason why he shouldn’t, he leans in and presses his mouth hotly to Mickey’s. And this time, it feels different. Mickey’s breath hitches, because the air is suddenly sucked out of the room, and their lip's part and the tips of their tongues touch and Ian feels himself tremble. He presses himself closer to Mickey and his hands slide to rest on his hips. Mickey’s fingers frame Ian’s cheek as he deepens the kiss and he slides his tongue deep into Ian’s mouth. Ian can’t help the moan he expels and then Mickey is tugging at the hair on the back of Ian’s head and Ian gets lost. Lost in the wetness of Mickey’s tongue and the heat radiating off his body and how good it feels to have him in his arms. They kiss and kiss, deepening it with every movement of their heads and Ian can feel their mixed saliva on his chin and if he knew kissing felt like this, he’d been making out with every person he sees. 

Mickey is finally the one to pull back, panting and lips shiny with spit and cheeks flushed. He lets out a slow breath and sits back, but keeps his feet hooked around the back of Ian’s knees. 

“You’re a natural.” 

Ian feels himself blush and without thinking moves in for another kiss. Mickey’s hand on his chest stops him and he pushes Ian back gently. “Lessons over.” 

Ian blinks at him, but steps back, feeling instantly cold from the lack of contact. 

“Mickey, I...” 

“No, it's cool. You did good. Trevor a lucky dude, or whatever.” 

“Mick.” 

Mickey hops down off the table and doesn’t give Ian a second look as he goes to roll up the garage door again. 

“Mickey! That was hot...I...” 

“Hey, what are friends for?” He motions with his arm behind him for Ian to hurry the fuck up and Ian jogs past him onto the sidewalk. He watches Mickey slam the door down and put the padlock on, as his heart hammers away in his chest. There is a thousand things he should say and a thousand more he shouldn’t. So, he just stays quiet. 

“See you tomorrow.” Mickey turns without even looking at Ian, and he’s done it so many times and it should feel normal, natural. But Ian feels the farthest from those things right now. He feels confusion, lust, want, sadness...so many different things and he can't bring himself to say a damn thing to Mickey as he walks away. 

*****

Lip is up reading some advanced Geometry book when Ian gets home. He has a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth and barely even looks up when Ian walks in. Ian sighs heavily and falls onto his bed, face first. 

“The fucks with you?” 

Ian just groans into the mattress. 

“That bad, huh? Boy troubles?” 

Ian rolls onto his back and rubs his hands over his face. “You have no idea, dude.” 

Lip chuckles and sets his book down, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to flick the ashes into a beer bottle on his bedside table. He chucks his pack of cigarettes at Ian and they land on his chest with a thud. 

“Thanks.” Ian mumbles, sitting up. 

“So, spill.” 

Ian sighs, lighting a cigarette. “There’s this guy. At school. Trevor.” 

“The trans kid?” 

Ian nods. 

“Wow, okay. Go on.” 

“He’s got this asshole boyfriend, but I don’t care. There is just something about him. And I like him. And he knows I like him. So, I asked him out.” 

“Damn. Bold move.” 

“I know. But he said yes. And I’m fucking nervous, you know? And Mickey is giving me a bunch of shit-” 

“Ah, there it is.” 

“What?” 

Lip shakes his head. “Fucking, Mickey. The two of you. Fucking ridiculous.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“This fucking dance you two have been doing since you were like, what? 8? Come on, man. Fuck or get off the horse or some shit.” 

“What? No! Mickey and I are just-” 

“Friends. Right.” Lip sinks his cigarette into the beer bottle and picks his book back up. 

“Lip.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that Mickey has some kind of weird hold over you. You’ve never had a real boyfriend because Mickey always had a problem with each and every guy you’ve liked. Yeah, you fuck guys and you tell me Mickey fucks guys too, but everything you fucking do revolves around Mickey Milkovich. And I get it, your friends. Best friends. He’s practically a Gallagher, he’s been around so long. But one of these days Ian, you’re gonna have to move on and live your own life. So, what if Mickey doesn’t like this guy? You do. And you’re the one going on a date with him. Not him.” 

“But I care about his opinion. He knows me. Better than anyone. And he keeps me from getting hurt. He cares.” 

“Maybe you should get hurt. Isn't that the fucking point of life? Get hurt, learn from it and move on?” 

Ian flops back onto the bed and groans. “But what if Mickey is right? What if this is a huge mistake that is going to blow up in my face?” 

Lip grumbles and throws his book onto the floor. “Have you ever asked yourself, just once, why Mickey seems to hate every dude you ever wanted to be with? Why he’s inserted himself into your life so intricately. Hmm?” 

“Because he’s my best friend.” 

“Ian. My naïve little brother. Mickey Milkovich is in love with you.” 

Ian sits up so fast, he gets dizzy. “No, he’s the fuck not.” 

His older brother laughs. He laughs so hard in fact he has to has to get up off the bed and leave the room. Ian stares after him, open mouthed. 

*******

Mandy Milkovich is a force of nature. 

She’s hostile, and beautiful, and she consumes all the air in the room when she’s enters. Ian knows her, of course he knows her, but he doesn’t know her, know her. She’s been around forever. Hanging around him and Mickey when she was younger. Playing video games with them and sometimes tagging along to the store. She’s 2 years younger than Mickey; just turning 16 and domineering the halls with that Milkovich charm. Turning all the boys and even teacher’s heads with her low-cut tank tops and pink streaks in her hair. Her signature nose ring glistens as she stalks the halls and even joined the cheerleading squad this year as some kind of fuck you to all the prissy girls and she’s just an enigma. 

But Ian doesn’t really know her. But she smiles at him and they make small talk when she’s around him and Mickey. Mickey takes care of her, even though she doesn’t need it, and Ian feels a weird sibling connection to her because of Mickey and how long he’s known her. But they’ve never really had a serious conversation. And they have never talked about Mickey. 

“Hey.” Ian breathes out as he watches Mandy shove her book bag into her locker. 

“Hey Ian.” She smiles, her red lipstick a perfect shade for her pale skin and blue eyes. “What’s up?” 

“Um...” Ian looks down the hall nervously and then back into blue eyes that match his best friends. “Can I ask you something?” 

“You turning straight on me? Because I have to say, I’ve been waiting.” 

Ian laughs. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Aw, shucks. What do you wanna ask me?” 

“Does Mickey...like date?” 

Mandy laughs right in his face. “No. Fuck no. Why?” 

“I don’t know. I... I have a date on Friday and he’s being weird about it. Like he knows about all the times I’ve had sex, but this isn't that. It’s like a real date and he just keeps telling me it's not a good idea and being a total ass about it.” 

“Mmm.” Mandy closes her locker and hugs her books to her chest. “Mickey isn't the dating type.” 

“I know.” 

“Then what’s with the question?” 

“I just...it's been us, just us, for a long time. And he’s my best friend. Maybe he thinks I’m going to like forget him or something if I get a boyfriend?” 

“That’s a good theory. But I don’t think Mickey is as insecure as that.” 

“Then what?” Ian asks as he follows Mandy as she starts walking through the hall to her class, weaving in and out of crowds of people. 

“Maybe he just wants what’s best for you.” 

“Well, how do I know what’s best for me if I don’t try to look for it?” 

Mandy laughs and turns to look at him. “Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.” Her hair flips as she turns away from him and ducks inside her classroom. 

“What does that mean!?” He yells after her. She doesn’t turn back to answer. 

********** 

“Okay, listen.” Ian flops down next to Mickey under the bleachers, almost spilling Mickey’s can of Mountain Dew next to his leg. Mickey frowns visibly and glares at him. “I get your pissed. You don’t like Trevor. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this whole thing will blow up in my face. Maybe I’ll get my heart broken into a million fucking pieces. But what if I don’t? Huh? What if this actually works? And I get having a boyfriend changes things, but it's not like I’m going to just forget you or some shit. We are still going to hang out-” 

“Whoa, breathe, Gallagher. Fuck.” Mickey picks up his soda and takes a few large gulps. “This aint about whether you get a boyfriend or not.” 

“Then what is this about?” 

“He’s just not right for you.” 

“Then who would be?” 

Mickey just shrugs. 

“Come on, Mick.” 

“That’s all I got, Ian. I don’t like him. It has nothing to do with what’s between their legs or some shit. I just don’t think he’s the right person for you. But if you going out with him is really what you want, I’ll play along.” 

Ian breathes out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.” 

“What do you have planned for this little date of yours?” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dinner?” 

Mickey laughs. “Your date is tomorrow night and that’s all you’ve come up with?” 

“Oh, and you’re some expert? Not only are you an expert kisser but now you’re an expert on dates too?” 

“Nope. But I know you ain’t gonna win some pretentious asshole like Trevor over with some date at a diner.” 

“Then what?” 

Mickey lights a cigarette and leans his head back against the metal beams of the bleachers. “We got this car in the shop. Rolls Royce. We fixed it up and the old dude went and died before picking it up. It’s just been sitting there. Boss is waiting a few more weeks in case someone comes to claim it before he sells it. I’ll snake it for tomorrow night. Drive your prince charming around in style.” 

“I don’t have my license.” 

Mickey rolls his eyes as smoke billows out through his nose. “I know that, idiot. I’ll drive.” 

“What? Like...like a chauffeur?” 

Mickey shrugs. 

“Can you wear the little hat too?” 

“Fuck off. You want my help or not?” 

Ian smiles as he looks as Mickey itches the scar above his eyebrow; one he got from a particular bad beating from his father. Ian thinks it was a gun, but Mickey’s been beat so many times by his father, Ian has lost count of the injuries. His chest aches for a second at the thought but then leans his head down so he can rest it on his best friend's shoulder. 

“Yeah, Mick. That would be great. Thanks.” 

Mickey sighs heavily before finally resting the side of his head against Ian’s and handing him his half-smoked cigarette. 

“Anything for you, Gallagher.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys. The final chapter. This was such a fluffy little fic to write. It's been a long time since I've written something sweet and I have to admit, it felt good. Soak it in, because the next big fic I am working on it angst city. 
> 
> Thank you for all the love and comments. I hope you enjoy!

“The fuck you wearing?” 

Ian’s brothers voice invades his ears as he looks at himself in the full-length mirror, he had found in someone’s garbage by the road a few days ago. He has it leaned up against their dresser as he turns himself from side to side, eyeing his 4th outfit change. The truth is, nothing he owns even comes close to what he should be wearing on this date. He had even rummaged through Lip’s clothes, hoping he had something a little nicer, only to find his brother dressed worse than he did. 

But this outfit, the one his brother was so kindly making fun of, was the nicest and probably closest thing he owned for a ‘date.’ It was a dark green button-down shirt and he had on dark jeans. The only pair he has that don’t have holes or stains on them. He turns and frowns at his brother. 

“I have my date.” 

Lip laughs and bites his thumb between his two front teeth as he continues to chuckle at his little brother. “Oh, yeah? Mickey didn’t kill this guy yet?” 

Ian rolls his eyes. “You’re wrong about Mickey. He’s not in love with me.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so. I’d know.” 

“Oh, yeah? I doubt that.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mmm.” Lip turns toward their open bedroom door. “FI! COME HERE.” He bellows. 

“Yeah?” Fiona comes out of the bathroom and stands half in the doorway and half in the hall. 

“Tell Ian here that Mickey is in love with him.” 

Instantly Fiona’s eyes widen and then a pink flushes across her cheeks. “Lip.” She says sternly. 

“Come on, Fi. Don’t you think this shit has gone on long enough?” 

“What are you talking about?” Ian interrupts. 

“Nothing, sweet face. Don’t listen to him.” 

“Fiona. Come on. This is such bullshit. Just tell him so we can all move on with our lives. I feel like I’m living in some shitty rom com with the ‘will they, wont they’ bullshit. It's sickening, really.” 

“Fiona?” Ian asks softly. 

Fiona sighs heavily and runs her hand over her face before giving Lip her signature, ‘I cannot believe you are making me do this’ look. It’s a look she’s mastered because with being the oldest, comes the most responsibility and the bearer of hard truths. “Ian, listen. It’s just something we all knew and we figured you knew and didn’t want to talk about. Mickey and you have been friends for so long so we just figured you didn’t want to make it complicated.” 

“Make what complicated? Mickey doesn’t...” Ian pauses, looking between his sister and brother. “Does he?” 

“Of course, he does, Ian.” Fiona says softly. 

“He never said anything...” 

“Do you blame him? The kids so in the closet.” 

“No, I mean, he knows I know he’s gay. That’s just cause of Terry. But he’s never once said anything about...feeling those things for me. Not even after the kiss-” 

“THE WHAT?” 

“YOU KISSED MICKEY?” 

“WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN?” 

“WHAT WAS IT LIKE? DID YOU FEEL ANYTHING?” 

“THIS IS NUTS.” 

Ian can hear the yelling and excitement coming from his siblings but it's like he’s hearing it underwater. Flashes of his entire life with Mickey form behind his eyes, spanning years of looks and touches and sensations Ian didn’t know were important than this moment. His last vision lands on the kiss he shared with his best friend. The way Mickey’s mouth felt warm and soft on his. How his tongue slid so perfectly inside his mouth. How good it felt to have his hands on Mickey’s hips and how Mickey’s thick thighs felt wrapped around his own. 

“I... I have a date. An important date. A date I earned. He’s good...I like him. I can’t...” Ian stammers. 

“We know. I’m sorry Ian. This is why we never said anything.” Fiona glares at Lip who just shrugs. “We figured you knew and just didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“I... I have a date. I have a date.” Ian repeats over and over again, brain swimming and cloudy. 

But all he could think about was Mickey. 

*** 

Ian closes the front door behind himself, as he stuffs his arms through a leather jacket he borrowed from Lip; the one nice thing he owns. He’s 2 strides down the front stairs, when he sees the huge Rolls Royce parked out front of the gate. And there, leaning against it, wearing dark jeans, black boots, a long-sleeved black t-shirt and a fucking Fedora, was Mickey fucking Milkovich. 

And Ian’s cock jumps to attention. A swarm of things cloud his head. Things his siblings said. Things Mickey has said. Laughter. Memories. Soft lips. And Ian can't think straight. 

“Do I deliver, or do I fucking deliver, Gallagher?” Mickey shouts over the cigarette between his lips and holds his arms out at the gift. “Eh? Nice right?” 

“Mickey...” Ian breathes out as he finishes the stairs and walks onto the cracked concrete walk to the gate. Mickey is already there, unlatching it, and pats Ian playfully on the arm. Like a friend would do. And Ian’s mind reels. 

“Your man is gonna die when he sees this. I’m pretty fucking proud of myself for thinking of this.” Mickey continues, taking long inhales of his cigarette. Ian just slides his eyes up and down Mickey’s body again, unable to tear his eyes away or muster any words. He looks...fucking hot. 

“What’s with the hat?” 

“Eh. Couldn’t find a fucking Chauffer hat at good will. Had to settle for this.” Mickey touches the tip of the hat softly. “Looks dumb.” 

“No!” Ian quickly interjects. “No, it's...um, good. It looks good.” 

“Fuck off.” 

They both smile at each other and there is nothing but what can be called electricity between them. Ian feels it on his skin; in his blood; as Mickey’s eyes just blaze into him. Ian feels dizzy with excitement. But not for what he should be excited for. He has a date with the guy he’s been crushing on all year, and it’s the furthest thing from his mind. Lip and Fiona can’t be right...right? There is no way Mickey is in love with him. He wouldn’t be doing all this...if...he. No, this isn't Mickey’s style. If he felt something, he would just punch Ian in the face until he got it. Until he understood. Until it clicked. And he hasn’t done that. So no, it's not true. 

"Let’s go. Don’t wanna be late.” Ian says, breaking the staring. 

Mickey clears his throat, tearing his eyes away. “Right. Come on.” 

*** 

Trevor whistles loudly as he exits his front door and Ian is standing there, just a few feet from the car. Mickey is leaning against the front of car, not even looking at them. 

“You know I told you this had to be one hell of a date, and you’re making me eat my words here, Ian.” Trevor lands in front of him as he hops off his last step and is standing just mere centimeters from Ian’s face. Ian breathes in deeply, looking into those deep brown eyes he’s been dreaming about. But...they are the wrong color. Brown isn't the right color. Nothing about this feels right anymore. “Is that Mickey?” 

“He’s gonna be driving us around.” Ian turns to sneak a glance at Mickey who is just chain smoking and not giving them the time of day. 

“That’s some fucking friend.” 

“Yeah,” Ian says softly. “He really is.” 

Mickey opens the back door for them and Ian hears Mickey whisper to Trevor before he slides in next to him; 

“You break his heart; I’ll break your face.” 

*** 

Dinner is nice. Ian picks a small little Italian place he knows is hard to get into on a Friday night, but Fiona used to date the owner so she calls in a good word for him. The conversation stays simple: what colleges they are looking at. What teachers they love and hate. A couple of funny childhood stories. But when Trevor swallows his last bite of food and gives Ian his bedroom eyes across the small circular table, Ian knows it's about to get deeper. 

“So.” 

Ian takes a sip of his water and gives him a small smile. “So.” 

“Gotta say, Ian. This is a lot better than I expected.” 

“The date?” 

“The date. And the company.” Trevor’s smile is warm and it makes Ian’s body warm and he suddenly remembers what he was doing here to begin with. Trevor is kind. And smart. And funny. He laughs at all the right time during Ian’s stories and he listens when he’s supposed to. Really listens. He doesn’t curse. He keeps his politeness about him. His charm. He’s beautiful. And Ian is enamored. As he should be. But Ian...can't get comfortable. He should be. But he isn't. 

“This your first real date?” 

Ian blushes slightly. “That obvious, huh?” 

“Actually, not at all. Seems like you’ve got this date thing in the bag.” Trevor pauses, playing with the garnish on his plate. “So, you and Mickey seem close.” 

“He’s my best friend.” 

“That all?” 

Ian stills, eyes locked with Trevor’s. “Yeah...” He answers slowly. “Why?” 

Trevor shrugs. “Just asking. Two gay guys being that close. It's totally normal for something to happen.” 

“Mickey’s not...” 

“Oh, come on, Ian. It’s not like I’m going to go scream it in the school parking lot or anything. I get Mickey is a very private person.” 

Ian swallows hard. “No, nothing has ever happened.” 

“Okay.” Trevor gives Ian a flirty smile. “Just trying to figure out my competition.” 

Ian huffs out a loud laugh. “Oh, because I don’t have Caleb to compete with?” 

“Not as much as you think.” Trevor reaches across the table to tap Ian’s hand wrapped around his glass. It’s a simple gesture. A sweet gesture. It should give Ian butterflies. And he has butterflies. But not because of Trevor. 

***

Mickey drives them to the waterfront. Its touristy and cheesy but it gives Ian and Trevor time to walk and talk and Ian has to hand it to Mickey. He’s more skilled in romance department than Ian ever knew. And as he and Trevor walk along the lake and he listens to Trevor talk away about his volunteer work with LGBTQ youth and the homeless, all Ian can think about is HOW Mickey is so versed in the game of romance. It makes his mind race and he’s reeling and 20 minutes into their walk, Ian realizes he’s not even listening to Trevor anymore. 

In fact, he’s NOT listening so intently that he doesn’t realize that Trevor’s stopped walking about 7 feet back. 

“Ian?” he asks gently. 

Ian sighs and walks slowly back to his date. “Sorry.” 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Ian gives Trevor his best fake smile. 

“Ian,” Trevor reaches for his hand and takes it loosely. “You’ve been distracted all night. Giving a guy a complex here.” 

Ian groans low and bows his head. “I know. I’m sorry. It's just…my family said something to me before I left tonight and it has my head all spinny.” 

Trevor looks past Ian, over his shoulder, and fixes his eyes on something in the distance. He slowly nods and finally flicks his eyes back to Ian’s. “Something or someone?” 

“What?” 

Trevor’s eyes wander past Ian again and it makes him finally turn around and find what Trevor is so fixated on. Then Ian gets it. Parked about 50 feet away is the Rolls Royce with Mickey leaning against it, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and Ian suddenly forgets to breathe. A thousand memories flash before his eyes. Grade school sleepovers, blanket forts, stolen beers, bullets under the L, clumsy hand jobs, shitty self-done stitches, silent crying in the dark when Mickey thought Ian couldn’t hear him, joints and dreams shared in dugouts, and kisses that turned his life upside down. 

“Ian,” Trevor says softly and Ian is broken from his trance. He looks at him; brown eyes gentle and concerned. “I’d rather be with someone for the wrong reasons, than alone for the right.” 

Ian stares at him as Trevor leans up and kisses his cheek. “I don’t understand.” 

“Yes, you do. I’m not the one you want to be on this date with. And I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’m not the person he wants you on this date with.” 

“I... bought you this bracelet.” Ian takes it out of his jacket pocket, showing it to Trevor. Its roped leather with a silver clasp. Manly but pretty in its own way. Trevor eyes it in his hand and gently reaches out to close Ian’s outstretched fingers around it. 

“I think you really wanted to give this to someone else.” Trevor looks past Ian again and nods his head toward Mickey. Mickey is looking at them now, arms crossed. Waiting. Always waiting. Hes been waiting forever. Ian doesn’t want to make him wait anymore. 

“I didn’t…I don’t know how…” Ian stammers. 

“Sometimes love is the last place you expect it to be. Right in front of you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Ian whispers. “I wanted this date. I like you…I just…” 

“You love him.” 

Ian swallows hard, and glances one more time at Mickey. “I do.” 

“I’ll get myself an Uber. You go get your man.” 

Ian hugs Trevor, maybe a little too tightly, and almost runs to the car, and Mickey. He stands up straight as Ian skids to a stop in front of him. 

“Looks like it's going well with Romeo. Here.” Mickey tosses Ian the keys to the Rolls Royce. “I’m gonna head home. Let what’s his name drive. Just make sure it's back to my house by sunrise.” 

“No, Mick, listen.” Ian begins. 

“No, it's cool. Enjoy the night. I’m just gonna walk.” 

Mickey turns and jogs across the street and up a side street and out of sight. Ian grips the keys tightly in his hand and wonders if he read this all wrong. Maybe his family was wrong. Mandy. Even himself. Mickey never felt that way about him. How did he lose 2 people in one night? How did he let this happen? 

“He wants you to follow him!” Ian hears Trevor yell to him. “Trust me.” 

And then Ian runs. 

*** 

Even walking, Mickey is fast. He has to be. All those times running from the cops. His Dad. Running after neighborhood kids for a beat down. Mickey has been running his entire life. And now, he’s running from the one thing he loves most in this world. The one thing he’s had for himself. The one thing no one could take from him. The one person who saw him, really saw him, and stayed. Saw through all the South Side rumors; the reputation he’s had to live up to being Terry Milkovich’s kid. Ian saw through the dirt on his face and underneath his finger nails. He saw the person Mickey wanted to be, not the one he was. He honestly thought he could have Ian. As his friend. The one person in the world that couldn't be stolen from him like everything else in his life. 

But Mickey had to go and fuck that up too. Because he fell in love with him. With the scattered freckles and fluffy hair. With the smile that lit up Mickey’s entire dark existence. With the crazy big family and terrible childhood but still managed to find the good in things. He had hope. And he made Mickey hope. Hope that one day Ian would look at him, feel for him, the same way Mickey did. But then came Trevor. And Mickey had nothing to give Ian. He was trash. And Trevor wasn’t. Trevor would go to college. Mickey is barely passing his senior year. Trevor was a good guy. Mickey...wasn't. Trevor could give Ian things Mickey never couldn’t. He was the better choice. 

But it still hurts. 

It fucking hurts like hell. 

And then Mickey had to go and kiss Ian and amplify every single feeling he had ever had for him; igniting a need and a want Mickey had never felt before. It was stupid and reckless. And he knew it the second Ian got between his legs and Mickey could feel his breath on his face. He was ruined. He may have been ruined the moment Ian asked him if he wanted to walk home with him and his sister from the little league game. Those kind big eyes staring at him. It was pity at first; Mickey’s been seeing that look in people’s eyes his entire life; but then they just turned to curiosity and when Mickey just nodded his head once at Ian’s question, the look turned to happiness. 

Mickey remembers that day a lot. Ian was the first real friend he ever had. He may be the only friend Mickey has. Or ever will. They just don’t make people like Ian Gallagher. Mickey thinks about that hand job too. Almost every night. He feels weird thinking about 13-year-old Ian Gallagher, but the kid had a fucking monster between his legs, even at 13. And Mickey was 13 too, and it’s a memory, so he doesn’t feel that bad. It was just coming of age teenage curiosity. But to Mickey, it was an epiphany. A solid realization that not only was he 100% gay, he was also 100% in love with his best friend. 

But none of that matters. Because Mickey is back to running. Because yeah, he knows Ian will always be his friend. No matter where Ian ends up in life, or who he ends up with, their friendship is stronger than anything. He isn't an idiot. He knows all that. But it doesn’t mean Mickey wants to see him with someone else. And that hug between him and Trevor... 

Trevor’s hand on the back of Ian’s neck where Mickey knows how soft the hair is there. Trevor gets to have that now. And Ian was right. Trevor isn't a bad guy. Ian could do worse. Mickey would be worse. In the long run, Mickey knows that. But again, it doesn’t hurt any less. 

Mickey isn't even aware he’s crying until the cool Chicago night air hits his face with a forceful gust and he sniffs, and wipes his eyes on the back of his hand as he walks through the Northside streets to the L. He doesn’t belong here. Ian does. He was always better than the shit hand he was dealt. Ian would get out. He’d go to college and make something of himself. Mickey would always be stuck here. Stuck in the South Side, running guns and drugs for his dad. Mickey knows once Ian leaves; he will probably get his ass thrown in prison. He knows how his life is going to go. He’s fucked for life. 

Mickey can hear Ian calling his name faintly from down the street behind him. But Mickey can't handle it right now. He wants to talk. Ian always wants to talk. And sometimes it's okay. But tonight, it's not. Mickey can't do it. He can't listen to Ian wax poetic about his date and Mickey can't be that friend tonight. He’s either going to end up crying in front of him or punching him in the face. And neither of those things sound fucking inviting right now. 

“MICKEY. STOP. PLEASE!” 

Mickey halts, but doesn’t turn around. There’s something in Ian’s voice, in his pleading, that makes him stop. Mickeys heard that voice before. That wavering plea coming deep from Ian’s chest. He’s heard it when Monica returned and Ian showed up at Mickey’s door frantic and scared. He heard in Ian’s voice that day they checked him into the mental hospital. Ian is scared. 

But Mickey can’t turn around. Because he can’t stop crying. Because Mickey isn't ready for what Ian is about to tell him. Whatever it is. 

Ian is only maybe 15 feet behind him, not stepping any closer. Again, out of fear. 

“Mickey.” Ian’s voice cracks and finally, Mickey turns slowly to face his best friend. And Ian looks...fucking wrecked. Out of breath from running. His eyes wet; tears anticipating their fall onto his freckled, pink cheeks. But Mickey doesn’t say a word. He just stares. Waiting. He’s always been fucking waiting for this tall motherfucker. 

“I love you.” 

And Mickey’s entire life changes. 

*** 

Ian feels free. The windows down on the Rolls Royce as his arm waves in the wind. His eyes are closed; head back against the seat and his cheeks hurt from smiling. He can feel the heat of Mickey beside him in the driver’s seat and smell the smoke from his cigarette and he peaks his eyes open for a moment to just stare at Mickey. Lips closed tightly around his cigarette like it’s offended him in some way; one arm outside his own window; the bracelet Ian gave him shimmering in the night sky; the other hand lightly gripping the steering wheel. He’s slumped in his seat in that sexy Mickey way and Ian can feel his jeans grow tighter at the sight. Because everything is different now. Because Mickey is his. 

Ian feels like he can breathe for maybe the first time ever. He feels euphoric almost. Like he’s on the verge of a manic episode. But he knows that’s not what this is. This is just pure, blinding, happiness. 

“The fuck you looking at?” Mickey mumbles around his cigarette. He side eyes him but can’t help but smirk around the filter. 

“The love of my life.” 

Mickey groans and takes one last deep inhale of his cigarette before throwing it out the window. “Shut up with that gay shit, man.”’ 

“Come on, Mick. Can’t I be happy? Aren't you happy?” 

Mickey looks at him; eyes soft, the lights from the streetlights flickering in his blue eyes. “Yeah, Gallagher. I’m fucking happy.” 

Ian laughs and turns back to his open window, letting the wind take him anywhere. 

*** 

The stairs are creaky as Ian and Mickey take them slowly up to the second floor of the Gallagher house. Ian knows Lip isn't home tonight and Carl is asleep on the couch which means he has his room all to himself. Which is perfect. Because he has plans. So many dirty plans. Ian’s hand is gripped firmly around Mickey’s wrist and as soon as they are inside his room, he closes the door and locks it and slams Mickey, a little too roughly, up against it. But Mickey is just smiling up at him, all teeth and challenging eyes. 

“Little aggressive there, Gallagher.” 

“Been waiting for this for a long time.” Ian whispers against Mickey’s full lips. 

“Yeah?” Mickey challenges back. “Whatcha been waiting to do?” 

Ian licks along Mickey’s bottom lip, slowly. “Getting you naked. My hand and mouth around your thick cock. Kissing you. Licking every inch of your body. Eating that perfect ass, you’ve been teasing me with for years. And just when you can’t take it anymore, I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll feel me for days.” 

Mickey moans and pushes his hips against Ian’s; rolling his pelvis deliciously against his clothed cock. Ian bites down on Mickey’s lip and Mickey’s tongue darts out to snake its way inside his mouth. They kiss; tongues battling for dominance and Ian wraps his large hands around the back of Mickey’s neck; feeling how soft his hair is for the first time ever. Ian is literally vibrating with anticipation; unable to decide what he wants to do first. But luckily Mickey, always knowing what is best for him, decides for him. Mickey slinks down Ian’s body, keeping his eyes on him the entire time and with firm but soft fingers, gets his pants down and lifts Ian’s feet off the floor to get them off completely. Ian looks down at his hard cock; tip red and leaking as it juts right in front of Mickey’s face. Mickey smiles up at him and Ian’s knees almost buckle. Mickey has barely touched him yet and he feels like he’s going to cum any second. 

Ian has had sex before. But this isn't just sex. This is deeper. Electric. 

It’s love. 

Mickey gives Ian a kitten like lick; gathering his wetness on the tip of his tongue and literally whimpers at the taste. Ian grips the back of his head; Mickey’s hair taught between his fingers. He doesn’t mean to be rough; but it's like there’s something demonic inside him and he feels like a man possessed. He needs to consume Mickey. It’s a little scary actually. How much he wants him. Mickey shudders when Ian grips his hair and with one wide and long open mouth head bob, ¾ of Ian’s cock is deep inside Mickey’s mouth. He drops his head back and he squeezes his eyes shut at the intensity of Mickey’s dick sucking skills. A wave of jealousy washes over him and the thought that Mickey has done this before; there is no way he is THIS good the first time, but he pushes those thoughts out of his brain and just focuses on Mickey, sucking his brain out through his dick. Mickey has his nose buried in Ian’s soft curls around his cock and he can feel the tip hitting the back of Mickey’s throat and his soft tongue on the underside of flesh and he just keeps inhaling Ian’s cock in and out of his mouth with intensity and precision. Ian is losing his damn mind. 

Ian looks back down at Mickey; the sounds he is making just making his cock harder and more rigid inside Mickey’s mouth. Mickey’s eyes look up; wide and watery and then he swallows and Ian almost blows his load. He feels his balls draw up and that telltale tingle in his spine and he pulls Mickey back off his cock with a pop from his lips. Mickey pants and wipes the drool and precum from his chin and sits back as much as he can on his heels; his boots hitting the door. Ian gets his hands underneath Mickey’s arms and hurls him up to eye level and crashes his mouth roughly against his. Mickey pushes him back toward the bed and Ian falls down on top of it with a chuckled ‘oomf’ and Mickey’s body is lying on top of him in seconds. 

It feels weird to be naked from the waist down but Mickey still clothed so he worms his hands between them to rectify that problem by almost popping the button right off Mickey’s jeans. They laugh at Ian’s enthusiasm; in between kissing and dry humping. It takes them a few tries; clumsily rolling around on the bed to get the rest of their clothes off; but they finally succeed, and feeling Mickey’s naked soft skin on his makes Ian almost growl at the fire that ignites through his body. 

He’s leaning over Mickey; his best friend and now...he isn't sure and Ian brushes Mickey’s hair off his forehead, searching his eyes, hoping for some kind of answer in them. 

“What?” Mickey asks, eyes concerned. 

“Is this what you want?” 

Mickey’s expression contorts into one of almost...sadness. “Don't you?” 

“Yes! Of course. I... love you. I just want to make sure you want this.” 

Mickey lets out a woosh of air and reaches up to caress the side of Ian’s face. “Gallagher, Gallagher, Gallagher.” He smiles, so gently. “Do you have any idea the shit you’ve put me through? The waiting? The wondering? Thinking maybe, maybe today would be the day he realized. He’d notice. You don’t think I love you? That I want this? I’ve been wanting this since the day I fucking met you, Ian.” 

Ian can feel the tears threatening their escape, but Mickey interrupts them with a firm press of his lips against his. It's close mouthed, but deep and warm and Ian relaxes his body on top of Mickey’s; letting himself get lost. Mickey’s words build a tiny little home inside his heart; a piece that was empty for so long; just waiting for something to fill it. Ian had dreamed for a long time of finding someone who would love him; flaws and all. Someone who would know about his bi-polar and accept it, not run from it. Someone who would understand where he grew up, how he grew up, understand his fucked up family, and welcome them all. Someone who would follow him and support him in his dreams. Someone to walk alongside him in this life. 

The thing that Ian didn’t know, didn’t realize, was that he had found that person. He had found him all those years ago sitting on a bench at little league, dirty and alone. Because that little kid was searching too. He’d been searching alongside Ian all these years, and he had found his person. Ian just didn’t know it was him. He didn’t know Mickey had been waiting this whole time. Or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to see it. It makes him sad he wasted so much time on everyone and everything else when he could have had Mickey like this, this whole time. Mickey should have been his first. Not some older guy from a club he shouldn’t have been in, in the first place. Mickey should have been his first kiss. His first everything. Ian has so much to make for. And he starts tonight. 

Ian wraps his hand around Mickey’s dick; and he was right, it's much bigger, thicker, than it was at 13. Mickey bucks his hips up into his touch and throws his head back and Ian takes the opportunity to attach his mouth to Mickey’s neck. His skin tastes salty and Ian can smell that distinct Mickey smell he’s been smelling almost his entire life. It's intoxicating. Mickey wraps his legs around Ian’s hips and they just rock together; Ian slowly jerking Mickey’s cock while Mickey digs his fingers into the flesh of Ian’s ass. Ian always figured if he and Mickey ever did fuck it would be hard and fast and almost violent. This is nothing but the exact opposite of that. This isn't rushed. And its soft and gentle in a way that makes Ian tremble in Mickey’s arms. 

“Gallagher...” Mickey moans as Ian sucks mark after mark into Mickey’s neck. He leans up looking down at Mickey’s lust blown eyes. 

“Feel good?” 

“Fuck yeah.” Mickey pushes his hips up again into Ian’s and his chest rumbles with noises of pleasure. “You gonna get in me anytime soon or we just gonna jerk each other off like when we were kids?” 

Ian chuckles and places a small kiss to Mickey’s jaw. “Oh, I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you all night, Mick.” 

“Just uh, make sure you open me up good. I...it's been a while since anything’s been in there.” Mickey clears his throat at his admission and suddenly Ian understands what Mickey is trying to tell him. 

“I thought you said...” 

“I’ve had sex before, man. Just not...I’ve never...” 

“Been fucked.” 

Mickey gives him a small nod and Ian cannot help the pornographic moan that he lets out into the air. Mickey’s fucked guys, yeah, but Ian will be the first person inside him. He’s going to take Mickey’s virginity. The one that matters. 

“Been saving yourself for me, Mick?” 

“Only person I’ve ever trusted, Gallagher.” 

Ian slides down Mickey’s body at that declaration and wraps his lips around the head of Mickey’s leaking cock. Mickey’s eyes widen; like he’s almost surprised at the feeling and Ian wonders if this is the first time, he’s had this done too. If it is, Ian won't ask, but he plans on making it the most amazing experience of Mickey’s life either way. 

He licks long wet lines all over Mickey’s cock, over his balls until every inch of them is dripping with Ian’s spit. Ian can hear the mess he’s making of Mickey’s cock and the man under him is losing his damn mind. He’s lifting his lips up off the bed, gripping the sheets tightly in his fingers, thrashing his head side to side. And the sounds? Fuck the sounds he’s making are going straight to Ian’s neglected dick that he keeps rubbing into the mattress underneath him. 

He lets off of Mickey’s cock with a loud pop and Mickey groans at the loss. Ian gets his hands underneath Mickey’s thick thighs, giving a small kiss to each one before lifting his legs up onto his shoulders. 

“Ever been eaten out, Mick?” 

“Fuck...” Mickey whispers. “No.” 

“Mmm, another first I get.” Ian spreads Mickey’s ass and he should take his time. He should take his time on Mickey’s hole like he did on his dick but this is virgin territory. The only thing that's been up Mickey’s ass are his fingers and a dildo, and Ian is literally drooling at the site of Mickey’s tight pink hole winking at him as he holds his ass open. Yeah, Ian should go slow. But he just can't. He attaches his mouth hotly to Mickey’s hole and sucks. Mickey howls above him and squeezes his ankles around Ian’s head. Ian just pushes Mickey’s thighs up further toward his chest and eats out his ass like he’s starving. And he is. Ian’s been starving for this. This feeling. This kind of love. The kind that consumes every part of you. The kind that makes your body catch fire and ignite. He knows he’s only 17. He has so much more living to do. People to meet. But somehow, deep inside himself, he knows Mickey is it for him. 

He leans back, drool dripping down his chin and catches Mickey’s eyes staring down at him. 

“I fucking love you, Mick.” 

Mickey’s chest is heaving. His forehead covered in a thin veil sweat. Pupils blown. Legs and stomach muscles trembling. He looks...gone. But Ian can tell the moment he is brought back to himself, just from looking in Ian’s eyes. 

“You’re it for me, man. Always have been.” 

“Forever?” Ian whispers. 

“Forever.” 

Ian takes his time opening Mickey with his fingers. Mickey asked him to and as much as Ian needs to get his dick inside Mickey, he doesn’t want to hurt him and Mickey knows his limits. He’s sure there will be plenty of time, chances, years of fucking ahead of them, but call Ian sentimental and sappy, but the first time, their first time, should be special. He knows that. And Mickey does too even though he’d deny it and just call Ian a fag. 

Mickey is a whining mess by the time Ian has made sure he’s stretched and open enough to take his cock. He settles himself between Mickey’s thighs, keeping Mickey’s ankles on his shoulders as he slowly pushes inside him for the first time. Ian watches as Mickey’s eyes widen as the tip of his cock pops through the first ring of muscle and Ian has to squeeze his eyes shut and still his movements because Mickey is so tight and hot and wet from the lube and Ian’s spit, that he almost cums the second he’s inside him. Ian has to remember to breathe and when he reopens his eyes, Mickey is just staring at him, bottom lip between his teeth and skin flushed and he looks so fucking beautiful. Ian feels like he’s seeing Mickey for the first time all over again. 

This Mickey; this laid out, vulnerable, walls down, Mickey; is like an enigma. It’s a side Ian rarely gets to see of Mickey. And it’s beautiful. Just like the rough, sharp tongued, South Side thug Ian’s been following around forever. All of him is so beautiful, and Ian gets to have him. He can't believe this is his life. That this has always been his life he just didn’t see it until now. 

He pushes his hips forward until he’s fully engulfed by Mickey’s ass; pelvis fitted tight between Mickey’s thighs; balls pushing against balls. Mickey keens; eyes rolling back into his head, mouth open and small gasps of breath escaping his throat. “Christ, Gallagher.” 

“You like that?” Ian whispers, leaning down to ghost his lips over Mickey’s jawline. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Mickey practically whimpers as he tightens his hole around Ian inside him. It causes Ian’s body to jerk; a shuddering he can't control that makes Ian’s arms turn to jello as he tries to keep his arms stiff on either side of Mickey’s head. He collapses, in such a fantastically awkward and embarrassing way and Ian waits for the teasing from the man under him, but nothing comes. Instead, Mickey’s arms snake around Ian’s shoulders; fingers digging into the muscles on Ian’s back; and pushes his ass forward as much as he can under Ian’s weight; begging him with his movements to do something. Ian almost forgets he’s actually supposed to be moving inside him; not just balls deep, feeling Mickey’s ass hot and tight around him. He’d actually be happy to just stay here all night like this, but that could be put on the back burner for another night. 

Ian forces his body back up onto his heels and grabs Mickey by his ankles and starts the push and pull onslaught on Mickey’s ass. Ian knows Mickey wouldn’t lie to him, but Mickey keeps meeting every one of Ian’s thrusts, and it feels and looks like Mickey has done this before. Many fucking times. He’s making all the right noises and running his fingertips along Ian’s biceps, down over his nipples and raking his nails over his abs. He’s giving Ian those hooded bedroom eyes and gnawing on his bottom lip and keeps whispering a string of ‘yeah, yeah yeah’ and Ian just wants to fucking consume him. He slides his hands down Mickey’s legs and digs his fingers into the thick flesh under his thighs and pushes his legs back as far as they can go to Mickey’s heaving chest. 

And Ian just let's go. 

He fucks like it's his last night on earth. 

He fucks like if he doesn’t, he may die. 

He fucks as the bed slams against the wall and the mattress keeps making this echoing creaky song and Ian knows anytime, he hears the bounce of a coil spring from now on he’s going to get an instant erection. He fucks as Mickey has to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming out in pleasure. He fucks as he pulls back, just enough, to watch his cock slide in and out of Mickey’s swollen and open hole. He dribbles spit out of his mouth and onto his dick and pushes it deep inside Mickey’s ass with one hard aggressive thrust and Mickey’s eyes widen and his hands fly up to the wall; palms slamming against the immature posters there and he even rips one as his orgasm rips through him. Ian watches, open mouthed and balls tingling as Mickey shoots one, two, three, and finally four long shots of cum from the tip of his thick cock and onto his red blotchy chest. Some lands right onto his nipple and Ian, without hesitation, let's go of Mickey’s legs and leans down to scoop as much cum onto his tongue as he can reach in the almost painful position, he’s found himself in. Mickey is raking his fingers through Ian’s sweat drenched hair as he licks the cum from his chest and when Ian makes a pleased sound Ian can feel Mickey’s cock twitch against his chin. 

Ian is back onto his knees as he licks his lips and continues to fuck Mickey with abandon, chasing his own release, it only takes a handful more thrusts and Ian is groaning so loud when he unloads deep in Mickey’s ass that Mickey has to grip Ian’s arm to bring him back to down to reality, so he doesn't wake the entire house. Ian clamps his mouth shut; teeth grinding as he rides the final waves of his orgasm and then there he is again, collapsed like a star fish on top of Mickey. 

Mickey chuckles; causing Ian to bounce a little since he’s draped completely over Mickey’s smaller frame and he’s just petting the back of Ian’s head like some kind of dog. 

“You okay there, tough guy?” 

“There is no way you haven't done that before.” 

“Don't know what to tell you man. Guess I’m just that good.” 

Ian turns his head; cheek pressed against Mickey’s shoulder; as the man he just fucked into next Tuesday cranes his neck so he can look down at him. “I’ve always known you were good, Mickey.” He pauses, letting himself get lost in the blue of Mickey’s eyes. Because he can do that now. And he never wants to look away. “Sorry I’m late.” 

Mickey’s fingertips ghost over Ian’s chin and he gives him the softest, sweetest smile Ian has ever seen. “Weren’t late, man. Just slow on the uptake.” 

“Don’t have to worry about that anymore, huh?” 

“Nope.” 

“Think this will work?” 

“What me and you?” Ian nods at Mickey’s question. “Course, man. Why wouldn’t it?” 

“Because we are giant fuck ups?” 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think this is the smartest thing either of us have ever done.” Mickey grips Ian’s chin firmly between his fingers. “You having regrets?” 

“No.” Ian says quickly, breathing out slowly. “No. You?” 

“Fuck, no. If you fuck like that, the fuck do I have to regret?” 

“Tell me about it.” Ian nuzzles his nose against Mickey’s warm but sweaty chest. “I love the way you smell. Always have.” 

“You’re gonna make this relationship fucking weird, aren't you Gallagher?” 

“We in a relationship now?” Ian mumbles against Mickey’s nipple before flicking it gently with his tongue. Mickey hisses through his teeth and grips the hair on the crown of Ian’s head. 

“The fuck you think?” 

Ian smiles as he rolls Mickey’s nipple between his teeth. “Forever?” 

Mickey sighs happily reaching down to wrap his hand around his half chub. “Forever.” 

*** 

Ian is warm. And comfortable. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so comfortable in his life. He can feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s skin as he presses his chest impossibly close to Mickey’s back. He can feel Mickey’s fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist as his arm lays loose around Mickey’s middle. He’s spooning him, Ian knows that, but he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to it, because no matter how far they came in their ‘relationship’ last night, Mickey stills spooks easy and Ian isn't about to poke the bear. 

Ian presses his nose to the back of Mickey’s neck and inhales deeply. He smells like sweat and spice and a little bit like Ian and his lips form a smile on Mickey’s skin. He could get used to that smell. He likes that smell. He could live the rest of his life with that smell. He’s getting lost in his thoughts, so lost he doesn’t hear the footsteps outside his bedroom door. 

And that’s when he remembers he forgot to re-lock the door when he got up after his and Mickey’s second round to clean themselves off with warm wash clothes. 

“Ian! Just because it’s Saturday doesn’t mean you get to sleep all day! Oh, how’d the date go-” The bedroom door swings open and Fiona’s smile that she had plastered across her face slowly fades into a look of confusion and shock as her eyes slide from Ian to Mickey, tucked securely against him with the blanket just barely covering the lower part of their intertwined bodies. Her mouth forms a small O and her eyes keep widening as she takes in the scene in front of her. Ian doesn’t know if Mickey is awake, but Ian doesn’t dare move. 

“The fucks that look for? Like you didn’t know this would eventually happen?” Mickey grumbles, his voice soft from sleep. 

“I... did...um...” Fiona stumbles over her words and then just steps back into the hallway and closes the door behind her. 

“That went well.” Ian groans rolling onto his back. His arm is still tucked under Mickey’s heavy body. Mickey chuckles and reaches over onto the side table for his cigarettes. 

“Since when is your sister a prude?” 

“She’s not. But I don’t think she wants to see her brother butt as naked in bed with his best friend.” 

“Better get fucking used to it.” 

“Oh?” Ian asks teasingly, leaning back onto his arm to grab the cigarette from Mickey’s mouth. He flails, almost hitting Ian right in the face, but eventually lets Ian take it so he can take a drag. “Want breakfast?” 

“Like you have breakfast food in this house.” 

“We have toast. Frozen waffles, maybe.” 

“Nah.” Mickey moans low as he sits up, shoulders cracking and he hisses through gritted teeth as he sits on his sore ass. “Let’s go to the diner. I need bacon. Lots of bacon. And pancakes.” 

“This a date?” 

Mickey leans back to smack Ian on his leg and Ian laughs, sitting up so he can wrap his arms around Mickey’s bare body. He places soft kisses on the freckles of Mickey’s shoulder and Mickey hums low in his chest. 

“Yeah, okay it’s a date, you soft motherfucker.” 

**15 Years Later:**

“He’s awful.” 

“Come on Mickey,” Ian rolls his eyes at his husband as they walk gingerly down the bleachers. “He’s a kid. He isn't supposed to be Derek Jeter.” 

“Who?” Mickey lights a cigarette as soon as they hit the dirt and Ian shoots daggers at him with his eyes. “Don't start. I married your ass, gave you some gay ass wedding, got a fucking college degree and I eat salad. Let me have my God Damn cigarettes.” 

“Fine.” Ian sighs heavily as they walk, bumping shoulders, toward the parking lot. “Don’t tell our kid he sucks, okay? Let's not to do him what our parents did to us.” 

“We did suck.” 

“Yeah, we did. But a little encouragement never hurt anyone.” 

“It is, if it’s a fucking lie.” 

“Mickey.” Ian says sternly. 

“Fine. Fucking fine. Jesus Christ. But I get a fucking knob job tonight.” 

“When don’t I give you a knob job?” 

“Not lately.” 

“We have a 7-year-old in the house.” 

“So, fucking what?” 

Ian sighs again, but when he sees Jack leaning against the fence next to another boy, he straightens his shoulders. “Encouragement, Mick.” 

“I know how to talk to our kid, Ian. Christ.” 

Jack spots them and waves and walks the short distance to them. “I suck.” 

“See?” Mickey says, waving his hand at their son. Ian can only groan. He looks past his son to the other boy he had been talking to, still sitting against the fence. “Jack, who’s that?” 

“Oh,” Jack looks back, voice lowering. “That’s Chris. His parents didn’t come.” 

“Why the fuck not?” Mickey asks eyeing the kid. 

Jack just shrugs. “They never come.” 

“So, who picks him up?” Ian can't take his eyes off this kid. Dark hair, light eyes, dirt smeared on his face as he punches his fist into his mitt. He reminds Ian of someone. 

“I don’t know. We always leave before him.” 

Ian watches Mickey’s face. He looks...almost empathetic. Then it clicks. Who this kid reminds Ian of? 

“Why don’t you ask him if he wants to walk home with us?” Ian suggests. 

“Really?” Jack smiles and wastes no time to practically skip over to his friend. They talk low to one another, Chris sneaking glances to Ian and Mickey and finally nods, standing and walks over slowly, shouldering his backpack. 

“Hey.” He says not making eye contact. Ian just smiles. 

Jack and Chris walk ahead of them, speaking low and sneaking glances at each other. Ian continues to smile as he and Mickey keep a safe distance behind them. He intertwines his fingers with his husbands and Mickey huffs but squeezes Ian’s hand. 

“Soft motherfucker.”


End file.
